


Sunday Morning

by WarpedChyld



Series: Everything Is Ok [2]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: AU, Crack, Fluff, Gen, M/M, ooc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-03
Updated: 2014-06-03
Packaged: 2018-02-03 06:30:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1734518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WarpedChyld/pseuds/WarpedChyld
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everything is good on a Sunday Morning</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sunday Morning

**Author's Note:**

> So the ever lovely [Madnizilla](http://madnizilla.tumblr.com/) made this [post](http://madnizilla.tumblr.com/post/87506705450/heateus-day-9). And the plot bunnies immedietly held an orgy of Greek proportions.
> 
>  
> 
> As usual in this 'verse o'mine, it's OOC. It's AU. It's pure crack. It's so fluffy you will die. it's Murder Family. ~~Help me I need to stop writing these.~~
> 
>  
> 
> Not Beta'd. See any mistakes, please let me know. Otherwise...I apologize for nothing.

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Sunlight and the smell of coffee. Where once it had been the sour reek of fear and a scream caught in his throat, the organic alarm clock for Will was now sunlight and the smell of coffee. Even knowing his lover was up--because who else could or would operate the monstrosity of a coffee maker--the former agent still reached over to the other side of the bed, both eyes flying open as he encountered the warm body there. 

“It will never not be creepy when you do that.” he replied tersely, his eyes rising to catch the love filled ones looking down at him. 

“Come on. Breakfast is ready.”

Will just shook his head and buried his face under the pillow. It was Sunday, there were no cases and it was....he peeked out to see the clock....well okay it was 10:30 but it had been an exhausting night. He still felt sore in places and muscles that he never expected to ever feel sore, at least not from those particular activities of the night before. 

Hiding his head again he grinned at the memory; age improved other things besides wine and Hannibal was a generous, if rather vigorous, lover. Happy in his head-space as he replayed the scenario it shocked him to no end when the blanket was yanked off him and he gave a yell (a scream he was told, but would deny it to his dying breath).

“Oh god dad REALLY!?! Do you two not know about clothes!” Abigail yelped with all the horror and affront of a teen greeted with their parent’s nude form. 

“Dammit Abby!” He grabbed the nearby sheet and yanked it back up, glaring daggers at his daughter as she made fake gagging noises. Sighing in defeat he ran a hand down his face. 

“I’ll be down in ten minutes.” Muttered grudgingly as he waited for her to leave.

Abigail stood there, her grin back in place and though he glared, his heart still soared to see the happiness on his adopted daughters face. The seconds ticked by as they played a friendly game of chicken. Will ultimately knew he would win because...well he was sure he would win; doubtful she would want to see him naked a second time. But then again he didn’t WANT to be seen naked a second time either. So...stalemate. 

In perfect synch they both burst out laughing, Abigail leaning against the doorframe and Will doubled over on the bed. They were thus engaged when Hannibal finally made an appearance, curious to know what was keeping his family and why the laughter. Not that he minded hearing it; the two of them created a symphony Hannibal could listen to forever, a sound to be kept sanctified and sacred in his mind palace. 

“And what is keeping you two so long when I have breakfast growing cold and dry?” He sounded stern but to the two people who loved him most, well he was downright jovial and warm.

“Dad was just showing me the number you did on his back. Well done.”

Laughing she sidled out of the way of the pillow Will launched at her but wasn’t fast enough...no on ever was...to avoid Hannibal. Strong arms wrapped around her and held tight as he shook his head and made a clucking sound with his tongue. 

“Rude child.” Not even a trace of anger, just fond exasperation. 

“I’ll go set the table.” She volunteered.

Hannibal just gave her a raised eyebrow but let her go, waiting till she was out of sight before going up to where Will had already buried himself back down among the pillows and sheets. Rudeness be damned, he was going to try to sleep a bit more. Once again, the covered were yanked from him and he spit out a rather foul Lithuanian curse.

“Of all my lessons, that is the one you master?” Another sigh. 

“Mmmm...” Will looked up at Hannibal, still flat on his stomach and drew one leg up, not missing the way his mate’s eyes went immediately to the juncture of his thighs. “Come back to bed and I can show you what other lessons I have mastered.”

It was lame. It was cliché. And it made Hannibal forget all about manners and wasting good food. 


End file.
